He's as straight and clean a baby as ever a woman had.

What's wrong with him ?" "Look at his size." "That's all right.

Look at the puny little brutes about us! He's the finest baby--" "He's _too_ fine," said Mrs.Redwood.
"It won't go on," said Redwood reassuringly; "it's just a start he's taken." But he knew perfectly well it would go on.

And it did.

By the time this baby was twelve months old he tottered just one inch under five feet high and scaled eight stone three; he was as big in fact as a St.
Peter's _in Vaticano_ cherub, and his affectionate clutch at the hair and features of visitors became the talk of West Kensington.